


Safe and Easy

by Lynchnobia



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynchnobia/pseuds/Lynchnobia
Summary: It's safer to keep people out. (It isn't, it's just easier.)





	Safe and Easy

**Author's Note:**

> So @agnesmontague on tumblr brought up Jon pining for Martin early on and I couldn't sleep?
> 
> Unbeta'd, this is my first fanfic here, so please be gentle?

Talking about feelings or even really acknowledging them, general interpersonal interaction and relations have never been John's forte. Not since his parents died, maybe not even before.

Living with his grandmother did nothing to strengthen his skills, her distant demeanour a constant wall between them and so John did the best he could and closed himself off.

(A little voice whispered to him that it's okay, nobody would want him around anyway.)

Going to university and meeting Georgie Barker should have been a start into another direction and she did try, sometimes trying to get out of his comfort zone, talking about what's been going through their heads and showing him what a relationship could be like.

It did help him in some ways; being shown how you can support someone important to you, knowing an intimate connection doesn't need to be sexual, growing more comfortable in his own skin than he ever felt before.

At the end, they were still young, still stubborn in their own ways and so they parted ways.

(It had been to good to be true, right? A human connection, no, he was better of alone)

He didn't know what he expected from his job at the Magnus Institute. John always liked academic research and the paranormal and so he excelled at this. His drive, his single-mindedness, his passion let him stand out.

He couldn't help it – the Institute had a lot of literature that he didn't have access to before and in John's thirst for knowledge, he easily felt more at home in here than he did in most instances of his life.

Co-workers were there, but John never really felt the need to acknowledge them, lost in his research. What would talking to them achieve?

He was always the first to enter the researchers' area and the last to leave, always working, reading, studying. What did wait for him at home except boredom?

And so he threw himself into it.

This was good, this was safe.

John was surprised when he got offered the position as a Head Archivist, considering he hadn't even been an archival assistant. But Elias reassured him that yes, he had the skills needed for the job and that he was the only person that could maybe make something worthwhile out of the mess his predecessor left the Archives in.

From his first day in the new position he hated Gertrude Robinson. Or at least her filling system.

What he didn't hate, but would very much deny if anybody ever asked him, were his assistants.

Sasha had just the kind of aura that would brighten up a room without it being obnoxious. It also helped that she was good in the field, serious in her work and worked her charm to get the follow-ups they needed.

Also working his charm, albeit in a very different way, was Tim. More often than not, John would wonder how someone like Tim ended up in the Archives with his good looks and easygoing attitude. But that was private business and thus not something he would inquire. John was just glad that Tim was a good researcher and actually had a good eye for finding something amiss.

(When he later found out why Tim joined the Institute, something in John broke. It never really healed.)

And then there was Martin. Kind, gentle, attentive Martin.

Martin, who would look out for everybody's need and try to keep them as healthy as possible. Martin, who wasn't the strongest researcher, but held them together like glue. Martin, who asked how he liked his tea and made it perfect every single time after.

Martin, who made something blossom in his chest that John hadn't felt since Georgie.

And because it was safer (it isn't, the furthest corner of his mind whispered, it just easier), he squashed the bud, put up his walls and continued.

John knew it wasn't fair to make some of the comments about Martin in his follow-ups, but it was the best way to drive him away. Keep him at distance.

(Better to not get attached, it'll only hurt later, it always does.)

For some time it worked, keeping his emotions in check, sinking into his work. Although John felt the pressure of his position, resigning himself the work of a lifetime in hopes to ever get the archival system to something functional.

He sometimes was afraid of recording a statement, always feeling like somebody (or something) was watching him. It was draining. But he kept at it. What else was there to do?

And then Jane Prentiss imprisoned Martin in his own flat for two weeks and made a fool out of John.

Having Martin sitting in front of him, giving a statement was something John hadn't really want to witness. Especially not one associated with Prentiss. Before he could really stop himself, he offered Martin a place in the Archives, already rambling about what sort of security measures Elias could put up.

Despite everything he told himself to keep the wall up, John still cared. Especially about Martin. He only hoped that no one would notice. This level of kindness was normal, from boss to assistant, was it not?

(The fuzzy feeling he got when thinking about Martin using his old bed was something he did his best to ignore.)

So Martin began living in the Archives. Which wouldn't be a problem – except for the time Martin stumbled into his workspace in boxers and a t-shirt.

Considering the time, it wasn't to far of a stretch to think that nobody was here. But John was. And John tried again to keep the pressure in his chest down at the sight of a still sleepy Martin, so comfortable, asking if he already wants his tea. It almost felt domestic. What a stupid thought.

Prentiss' attack on the Institute changes a lot. Martin explaining about the corkscrew, how it's for saving his co-workers made something in John go soft.

Their talk didn't really help squashing this feelings down. Who would have thought that Martin had actually the guts to tell him off about being so skeptic and it was like opening a dam. Admitting he was scared? Nothing he ever had wanted out there. Still better than admitting what emotions lied deep within his chest (though they had come close to the surface – but then Tim entered).

Of course Martin left him behind. Why would anybody ever look twice for him? He wasn't worth it. John still wondered why Tim was by his side, a living crutch. He was thankful for the company, though, up until Prentiss caught up to them.

His own scars, he can live with. He always felt guilty when looking to Tim's matching set. Even during the days filled with paranoia.

Of course, Prentiss' attack wasn't the only thing that had him on guard. Martin found Gertrude Robinson's corpse under the Institute.

Shot.

Considering how not only she, but also her entire staff vanished or turned up dead, something like dread filled John's stomach. What if h- no, he couldn't go down that road.

Instead he focused on who could have killed her. It had to be one of the staff, right? They were the only ones with access. He was very pleased about the working relationship he had with Basira. She'd always been headstrong and supported his search back then. They made a good team. Or maybe she was just the only neutral source he had right now. But that had to be enough.

And so he lost himself in the paranoia, stalked his assistants, doubted them. He didn't want to, but it was safer to know all the facts.

(It wasn't, just easier.)

Despite all that it was so hard to keep it up for Martin. Martin, who got him Prentiss' ashes as an attempt to calm him down. Martin, who sent him home when he came back to work too early. Martin, who kept making him tea.

John didn't know how he deserved it, couldn't believe it, so of course Martin must be hiding something.

When that something turned out to be a false CV and not some murderous activities, he felt relieved. Of course it couldn't have been Martin. Not Martin.

Sometimes John wished that he could take his feelings, put them in a box and stuff them somewhere where they couldn't reach him. Sometimes they felt too suffocating.

Going after the Not!Them should have been easier, destroying the table should have done it, but no, of course this time he had to come to the wrong conclusions. And then he had been on the run for murders he didn't commit and didn't even know what happened to his assistants. John tried to quieten down the guilt he felt when thinking about Sasha and was scared for Tim and Martin.

They went through so much and here he stood, feeling like it was all his fault. He wished, he could make it better, take it back, give them a life that would treat them well.

But instead he scratched the Admiral behind his ears, put another cassette into the recorder and read another statement.

He tried to enjoy his talks with Georgie – even when she teased him about his crush with how much he would talk to her about him, even when she implied that Martin surely must feel the same. He also tried to be nice to Melanie.

It never felt enough.

Daisy almost kills him. (Sometimes he wishes she did.)

Basira saved him, confronted Elias and thus, sealed her own fate.

John felt sick with the knowledge that not only was he on his way to become something akin to Michael or Judy under the Beholding, but that everyone was just as bound to this place as he was.

Coming back to the Archives should have felt like coming back home. After particular long days, he longed for the days when he began in his position, longed for the easygoing work environment that still held up to his standards.

Now John was glad when Tim was absent (the hostile intent in his eyes did leave a nasty aftertaste in John's mouth) and Basira enjoyed some literature in a corner. He was even more glad for the constant he'd been missing in the past few months. Martin, who made him tea.

He entrusted Daisy with them. Who could keep them safer than Daisy? Certainly not John himself.

Not John, who felt like he was two steps away from becoming a monster.

Somewhere along the line, John had gotten more kidnapped than he had stable relationships. The only upside really had been Martin's indignation. Oh, how he wished that he could reach out. But Martin was just like that, right? How could John be something more for him? He didn't deserve Martin.

They've made their statements before going to Great Yarmouth and John had caught up with the backlog of tapes left in the Archives. Caught up with the 'office gossip', caught up with the fact that maybe his feelings weren't one-sided (and they never had been, a voice whispers. It just had been safer, easier). With the world about to end, John had made up his mind on the drive to the Wax museum as Basira, Daisy and Tim got ready for their encounter with the Stranger.

He would talk to Martin after this was all over.

And then the four of them danced.

One was lost to the ground, one was lost to the explosion, one just barely made it out alive and one should have been dead, but came back.

When John woke up in a hospital bed and heard that he spent 6 months in a coma, he couldn't really believe it.

Basira helped him get his bearings and he aches for Martin.

Martin, who was now Peter Lukas' assistant. Martin, who tried to avoid him. Martin, who didn't want to speak to him. John told him he missed him.

Martin told him that he will do anything to not let John die again (or, his darker part supplied, or let him come back).

He knew that he was pining, wished nothing more than to have a shyly smiling Martin sitting on the other side of his desk and it hadn't been the first time he asked himself what the point of dying had been when he could still feel so much.

So he tried to help Melanie. Rescued Daisy.

Doing anything to not become the monster he feared he already was.

He tried to talk to Helen in a way to anchor their humanity. In the beginning, it had seemed to work, but Helen spiraled down faster than he could see.

Getting statements fresh from people felt so good, better than anything he had tasted before (except the little joy he felt every time he drank his perfectly brewn tea made by Martin, but that had been out of the question for quite some time).

He tried, God, did he try, but he wasn't strong enough on his own. And Basira, Melanie, Daisy – they were all right to get away from him.

He would only bring their downfall.

Now he stands before The Lonely. He won't pry Martin out of this. He knows that Martin is doing this not for John's sake, but everybody's. He still doesn't entirely know what Peter Lukas plans to do with Martin, but he trusts Martin. Trusts Martin, who called him out. Martin, who put Elias behind bars. Martin, who took the entire Institute on his shoulders if it meant keeping it – and probably the world – safe. So he stands there, looking at the fog surrounding Elias' old office.

“I still do miss you, but I do put my faith in you. You were always more competent than you let on. Just. Don't die. Don't turn into something beyond our control. At the end, come back. Let's talk after this, okay? I need you to be okay, Martin, so please. At the end, please come back to me.”

And with that he turns, makes his way back to his office. His heart aches in more ways than one. John allows himself to feel.

It isn't easy, it isn't safe, but it makes him feel human and that's all he needs.


End file.
